


> Seer: Ask.

by boco



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Deal with a Devil, Gen, POV Second Person, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boco/pseuds/boco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From HSWC Bonus Round 1 (write a fic prompted with a pairing and a quote)</p><p>Prompt: <br/><b>Rose & the Horrorterrors</b></p><p>"It is time that we talk to each other<br/>It's time to break the silence<br/>You know me, yes, you know me.<br/>Do you still remember?<br/>You were a young boy when I promised you<br/>That I will always be near you"</p><p>- Die Schatten werden länger, Elisabeth</p>
            </blockquote>





	> Seer: Ask.

GG: the dark gods gave you all these powers, and seem to be helping us with dream bubbles and stuff...  
GG: but what if they are not actually good?  
TT: So, you're saying I should ask it if the gods are evil?  
GG: i guess that is a way to put it

> Seer: Ask.

You try to push your anger at Jack out of your mind and focus only on what's immediately in front of you. The Seer's Sight requires a certain level of concentration. You hold aloft the magic cue ball and shape the question in your mind:

"Are the Outer Gods evil?"

The Seer's Sight approaches and you Look. The gleaming white surface of the orb disappears under your Gaze, and in its stead you see the tumbling of all possible answers within. The answers spin, and twist, and approach and retreat, until finally one catches your eye and begins to come into focus. You squint and try desperately to read it as fast as possible. This is a waste of time. You should be fighting Jack. You should–

You find yourself surrounded by impenetrable darkness. You are standing, and beneath your feet you feel a coarse concrete dais. The silence is perfect; even the scrape of your shoe on the rough floor goes unheard. Although this place is entirely unfamiliar to you, you feel strangely at home, like you have been here before. You find your thoughts slipping again to Jack, and in the moment your concentration fails you find that what you had mistaken for silence was actually the deafening roar of a hundred thousand voices, each mumbling, whispering, moaning, pleading in every language you have ever heard and quite a few more besides. It's all quite overwhelming, and you involuntarily clamp your hands over the ears in a vain attempt to shut it out. (you realize–remember?–that you are no longer holding the cue ball).

WHAT IS YOUR DESIRE?

One voice cuts through the chatter (and your hands). It's coming from right behind you. You spin, but the other side is just as dark as the first. "I can't see–" Before you finish, you hear a loud CHUNK through the voices, and a dazzling bright light erupts from somewhere above you. You shield your eyes, and as they adjust you hear the chattering voices subside to a low murmur as they retreat from the brightness.

WHAT IS YOUR DESIRE?

Again the voice resounds from just behind you. You turn, and just at the edge of the light you think you see tendrils of the darkness, writhing in an impossible geometry, mouths opening and closing, and dozens–hundreds–of lidless eyes staring blankly at the ultimate nothing. Just as quickly, it is gone and only darkness remains. You gather your composure and stand up straight, trying to project confidence. Whenever dealing with potentially malevolent deities, it's always best to appear entirely self-assured. "I am Rose Lalonde, and I demand an audience with the Horrorterrors."

WE KNOW YOU, SEER. WE ARE KNOWN TO YOU AS OGOLG M'RUBBIT. BEYOND US IS NRUB'YIGLITH. BEYOND STILL IS OGLOGOTH, WHOSE GAZE YOU HAVE MET. BEYOND AND YET BEYOND FURTHER THE NOBLE CIRCLE SLUMBERS. BE ASSURED, SEER. YOU ARE ATTENDED.

The voice again comes from behind you. It almost seems to be whispering directly into your ear. You refuse to flinch, this time. To face even an Emissary of the Horrorterrors directly demands a certain amount of respect. You had guessed the cue ball to be of another nature entirely, but you guess there's really no substitute for hard work. Not all answers come easily; sometimes one must reach out and grab them herself. "I have... I have a question, then."

SPEAK AND YOU WILL HAVE WHAT YOU DESIRE.

"I want to know..." Is it really wisest to ask directly? You consider your options, but decide that time is of the essence. Jack must be stopped, and this is a meaningless detour only to allay the concerns of both your green-tinted friends. "I want to know if the Gods–if you–are evil."

WHAT CONCERN IS IT OF YOURS, SAGE? NEVERTHELESS YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR ANSWER. WERE OUR RESPONSE "NO" WHAT WOULD YOU DESIRE?

"If you aren't evil... then I would want to borrow your power."

AND IF "YES"?

"Then I would seek another source."

ANOTHER SOURCE MAY NOT BE AS WILLING OR AS AVAILABLE. CONSIDER THIS, SAGE: WHO HAS ASSISTED YOU? WHO HAS BEEN WITH YOU? OUR CONTRACT WITH YOU IS DEEP AND OUR INFLUENCE ON YOU PROFOUND; BUT IF YOU DESIRE WE WILL RELEASE YOU FROM OUR SERVICE.

Release? Service? "I don't understand. I've performed many tasks for you, in exchange for information, but I don't consider either of us indebted to the other."

THEN CONSIDER THIS, SAGE. OUR RELATIONSHIP IS LONGER AND DEEPER THAN YOU IMAGINE. WHEN WE FIRST MET YOU WORE ANOTHER FORM.

A chill overtakes you, and for a moment, you frown. Another form? "What do you mean?" Your own voice startles you; its tone is very different from what you called your own. Before the Emissary responds, you look down at yourself, and are shocked to find that rather than the lovely black dress Kanaya made for you, cinched at the waist with your mother's discarded scarf (oh god, your mother, Jack killed your–) staring up at you is a simple black t-shirt atop shiny silver jeans, and while there is a scarf around your neck, instead of bubblegum pink it is striped blue and navy. Your frown deepens as you try to put the pieces together. The scarf was a gift, from your patron troll. The sea prince. Your mother... you don't remember having a mother. Your name... is Rick Strider. You shake your head and the illusion is gone. You are Rose Lalonde again, and very much a young girl in a black dress.

YOU BARGAINED FOR A NEW LIFE. IN EXCHANGE, YOU WOULD SERVE OUR INTERESTS. WE STILL HAVE USE FOR YOU. BUT WE ONLY HAVE USE FOR THE WILLING. IF YOU ARE NOT WILLING, WE WILL RELEASE YOU, BUT WE WILL RESCIND OUR GIFTS. YOUR ANSWER, SAGE, IS THAT ALL BEINGS ARE SELF-INTERESTED. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS EVIL. IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO WEIGH THE INTERESTS OF OTHERS AGAINST YOUR OWN.

"Then..." Your anger flares again. "I would have your power. I need the strength to fight Jack."

IF STRENGTH YOU DESIRE, STRENGTH YOU WILL HAVE. ENOUGH TO FIGHT, YET NOT ENOUGH TO WIN. BUT EVEN IN DEATH THE PATH TO VICTORY WILL OPEN. GO FORTH, SAGE.

You hear a clatter, and look down. The cue ball slipped free from your hand. Your hand, which pulses with energy. You laugh, and retrieve the Thorns of Oglogoth from your Strife Deck. It is time to go hunting.


End file.
